


Out of Jail Free

by love2imagine



Series: New Beginnings [3]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen, Mild Humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 12:07:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1469077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/love2imagine/pseuds/love2imagine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>About four months after  "Out of Options".  Part 3 of New Beginning Series : Neal's situation changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of Jail Free

**Author's Note:**

> All White Collar characters belong to Jeff Eastin...we should all write to USA,  
> USA Network  
> 30 Rockefeller Plaza  
> New York, New York 10112  
> United States
> 
> real letters they can't ignore, do a Star Trek intervention..! The story and mistakes are mine.

 

 

Mozzie looked up from his book to see Neal striding back, smiling in the late afternoon sunshine, his cricket bat on one shoulder. He shook his head. Neal was taking this whole thing way too seriously! After all, they weren’t going to be here forever!

Neal noticed him and changed course. His hair was less than perfect, he was sweating, he was obviously happy. _Oh, well,_ thought Mozzie, _if he wants to stay, it’s no skin off my nose. I’m pretty contented here, too, after all._ But then Mozzie was always contented when he seemed to be absolutely safe from prying eyes, cameras, etc. And had good healthy food… and wine.

“Hi, Ian!” Neal exclaimed.

“You look as though things went well at the cricket match.” Moz tried not to sound at all sarcastic.

“They did! Three sixes! I’m a pretty useless bowler, but suddenly I found how to anticipate the bounce and somehow, though it should be physically impossible, get into position to do the best thing with it!

...“It’s not really like baseball at all,” he added in a low voice. “Well, somewhat, but if a batsman stays in, he can be out there for two days! And all that running – it’s good to get boundaries and sixes! It’s very technical, even the pitch is - ” he noticed Moz’s expression.

“ – sorry. Carried away.”

“I hear,” Moz grinned a little. “It’s great! No-one hearing you would think you hadn’t held one of those things two years ago!”

“Didn’t have an idea how runs were scored or what a bail was, other than something no-one ever posted for me! I have, in the past, bowled maidens over, but never bowled a maiden over in cricket, and, considering my lack of prowess in the area, never will!” Neal shook his head. “I’m getting a drink – like anything?”

“Not from the kitchen,” Moz said, meaningfully.

 

“You know,” Neal said a little later, pulling on a track-suit top and settling back with a lemonade, “I loved New York. I did. But I love this life just as much! I would never have thought it! These people are nice, and funny! The jokes they come up with!”

“The famous British humour.”

“Exactly. At first it really went past me. There’s apparently an old movie they made about the Germans creating a little English village to train spies. All goes well, they have the language, the accent, all those idioms, how to make tea and Yorkshire pudding properly - and then they try and teach these Germans to understand English jokes! This old geezer was telling me and going into stitches just remembering the ‘Gerries’ in the movie telling each other these jokes and looking completely befuddled and the audience cracking up! He couldn’t remember the name, but I’m sure - ”

Mozzie grinned at his friend. “Better than _**Tiles of Fire?**_ ”

“I’m sorry, Ian, I never did get those!”

“Humour is one of those fascinating things, how individual it is. Obviously learned…the English understand that black humour, the word-plays – I love the acrostic crosswords here! – and most of them think American humour is often just silly and obvious.”

“It **_is_** interesting! And they only dislike that very blatant slapstick humour and where the audience is assumed too stupid to recognise a pun so it has to have inverted commas around it!”

“Yet many of the British comedies play well in America, so the audience there doesn’t need it either!”

“Just don’t get irritated by it, on the whole.”

They both suddenly stopped and looked at each other. “Was that a car?”

They got up and went to the front windows, cars just didn’t pass here, the road ended - though they had the odd lost tourist. Mozzie would hide and let Neal, with his blond hair and dark eyes and an Andy Capp cap and baggy cardigan help them, in his carefully constructed English with just a touch of the colonial. It wasn’t that Mozzie couldn’t do it, but Neal positively enjoyed it!

However, this time the gate was unlocked by a chauffeur and a neat older Volvo stationwagon, with a gorgeous British racing green paint job, drove in.

The two looked at each other. “Gertrude!” they said, together.

“Like the old Volvo touch,” Mozzie approved. “No GPS, the people who work on them say that when all life is done on earth – or nearly – the only thing running will be cockroaches and those Volvos. Not the new ones, of course.”

“And will the cockroaches be driving the Volvo’s?” Neal joked. “Or will they have evolved into intelligent life by then?”

“Certain cars, certain types and certain individuals within those types definitely have more character than others,” Mozzie said, putting his nose in the air. “More than some people.”

“Not hard!” Neal shrugged. “I’ll go and put the kettle on and have a quick shower!”

But he wasn’t quick enough. Gertrude caught him as he slipped out the side door.

“Grey!” she exclaimed, seeing his whites. “How nice to see you are enjoying the cricket season!”

“I am, ma’am! I was about to shower, I’m still all sweaty – just stopped for a quick drink and chat with Ian. But to honour you, I should really - ”

“No, don’t waste time. I’m not staying. Come back in – I have a ball to attend and I’ll be cutting it fine as it is!” They went back and closed the doors.

“Have you seen June? How is she?”

“Quite lovely, Grey, as usual. I think she misses the two of you a great deal. I caught her dancing by herself on the balcony the other day!”

“Any other news?”

“Other than to tell you that I know about your little jaunt to Belize, Alistair Grey! I should cut you out of my life, and June’s…and you know I don’t mean that in any but the most literal sense! With a panga, I think you’d call it!”

Neal grinned his mischievous grin at her, seeing the twinkle in her eye – or he hoped he did! She was quite capable of carrying out her threat if she thought he was endangering June or anyone. “Sorry, ma’am. I was quite careful, and managed to save a silly man’s life in the process…”

“Yes, he was acting very oddly before,” Gertrude nodded, to Neal’s admiration. “The reason I’m not too annoyed with you, my boy, is that he has calmed down and they seem happy and he hasn’t given any sign that he saw anything but palm trees and white sands. He has kept your secret.”

“I knew they would.”

“You **_trusted_ ** they would, Grey. With your life perhaps?”

“You tell him, ma’am,” Mozzie said, coming up and giving her a little bow. “I told him I would wash my hands of him if anything happened. Not that I’m displeased that he saved the man who wears awful clothing.”

Neal was glad she appeared not to know he’d also briefly visited the United States to set up the Burke’s vacation, or was not mentioning it. Probably the latter! It would definitely be something she would frown on, and rightly so. He watched the other two chatting, amused.

The two of them had become firm friends and Gertrude had already taught Mozzie a great deal about her business. June had told Neal on one of her visits that Gertrude had no children living and that she (June) thought that Mozzie was likely in line for the succession. Neal had agreed. It would take someone with a fantastic memory and grasp of detail and pattern. Mozzie was unequalled in his experience. Neal himself was better with people in ones and twos, not whole countries, he just couldn’t feel as invested. But Mozzie would see the whole big picture, and had been part of all of her recent work. He enjoyed the whole multi-dimensional-puzzle aspect!

“I’m here to tell you that you may return to New York, Ian and Grey…but leave those two here, of course. Here are your papers, your records are not only clean but sparkling, and there will be no impediment at all from those who caused trouble before.”

“B-but ma’am,” Neal started, “the whole White Collar Office knew my background and - ”

“What does bureaucrat mean, Grey?” Gertrude demanded.

“Um, someone who works for a bureau or a bureaucracy?”

“Well, perfect circular defining,” Mozzie snarked.

Gertrude said, “You’re right, but the fact is that a bureaucrat is one who works by fixed routine, without exercising intelligent judgement, Grey. Someone who obeys rules without questioning. Therefore, if they see something in their records, in black and white, and are told, if necessary and forcefully by superiors that those records are correct, they will bend to the rules.”

“I dunno…some of those people…Peter, even – **_Diana!_**   Hmm…but none of them will jeopardise my new status, I don’t believe.”

“And then, what will you do?” Gertrude queried, with interest. “Neither of you need to be a criminal any more.”

“I will be helping you, ma’am,” Mozzie said, smiling at her. “I will have plenty of interest and intrigue without, um, petty crime.”

“Such as hundreds of millions of dollars of beautiful blue diamonds, **_that_** kind of petty crime?” Neal demanded in disbelief and Mozzie grinned broadly. Neal thought a moment. “I haven’t missed it here, ma’am,” he said. “But I have been busy cementing my alias. I shall be sorry to let him go.”

“Don’t do that!” she exclaimed. “I have several excellent ‘staff’ who will stay and guard this little housing estate of yours, and at the same time they will have a safe-house for the time they need to recover or lay low. They will stay in the staff’s quarters, and you will return, just as the Grey’s did, for regular vacations or business deals.”

Neal grinned at her. “You know the hardest part, I think, of swopping aliases is not what one is supposed to know, it’s what one is not supposed to know. I shall find it very difficult to ignore a good cricket game if one comes on TV.”

“They hardly ever do in the USA, they are always pay-per-view, unless one has a very expensive cable package. You should be safe.”

Neal felt a little like El saying to _**him**_ , “How do you **_know_** these things?”

 

 

It was two weeks later that Peter glanced up from his work, hearing the spooky elevator. _Damn the thing!_ Everyone else had gone home. He should, too…just the one form to finish. _Home to my beloved wife!_

He was filling out boring details and the next thing he looked up, startled, to see a pair of bright blue eyes shining over a broad white grin leaning into his office door. His own brown eyes widened so that Neal chuckled and walked in, tossing his fedora neatly over the picture of El, and came round the desk as Peter got up and enveloped him in a bear hug.

“Neal! I didn’t think – you’re **_back!”_**

“Yes. Coming home soon? El’s waiting.”

“Of course you’ve been home and seen my wife!” Peter said, grouchily, to hide his delight.

"Of course! I knew you’d be working – hate to put you off your game!”

“Oh, of _**course!”** _ Peter groaned. “Like you never did that, ever!”

“Who, me?” Neal put the fingers of both hands, outspread, across his chest, eyes wide. They both laughed. “Now I’ll bet you’ve just got one more thing to do, so I’ll go round and give the folks the gifts I brought them.”

“But - ”

“I’ll just put them in their desks, Peter.”

“They’ll be - ”

“Yes, I’m sure they will be. What fun would it be, otherwise?”

“And for that matter, how did you get into this building…? Never mind, never mind!”

Neal skipped from desk to desk, opening drawers and checking that the person for whom the gift was intended still worked from that desk. He had enjoyed a lovely time picking gifts to confuse – gifts from the UK, Italy, Malaysia, South Africa, Canada, Ecuador! Peter watched him, his heart glad to see him so happy and so _**here!**_ It struck him that he had no doubt whatsoever that all Neal was doing was leaving gifts. He’d come a long way.

They met by the elevators and went down to the car. Once safely inside (Neal knew it was safe, Moz had checked the car and watched it while he was upstairs with Peter), Peter said, “I suppose you know that suddenly – completely without warning – the Director of the Bureau resigned, citing ‘family matters’ as the excuse – er – reason, which is almost without exception a lie. He has indeed retired and the word is that he has been black-listed and is _**persona-non-grata**_ in polite circles and most that are far from polite. From what I can gather, he is growing tulips in Minnesota or some such.”

“Hmm?” Neal commented, without much apparent interest.

“Must be driving him mad!” Peter added, with relish.

“Tulips are nice,” Neal commented. “Lovely in large crystal vases.”

Peter grinned at him, then he sobered. “I had a surprise visit recently from some very snooty and official-looking, broad-shouldered, deep-chested, tall, suited thugs…well, that’s perhaps a _**bit**_ strong. But the air of power was as obvious as a score of fully automatics pointed steadily in my direction. They – er – took me to an undisclosed location and put me in an interrogation room and put in front of me a big pile of very official-looking papers.”

Peter checked to see Neal’s reaction.

Neal glanced across. “Watch the road, Peter!

…..“Really?”

“Yes, really. I’ve never seen so many seals all in one room other than SeaWorld or the Naval Academy – on just about every page…Department of Justice, just about every Office under the Attorney General, I think! – and Interpol and Scotland Yard – except they’re not that, any more – New Scotland Yard? - MI5, MI6 – and a whole lot in languages I didn’t know and couldn’t read! I think they just laid them out to intimidate me, the piles of documents and their threatening demeanour.”

“Gosh, I hope they didn’t scare you, Peter!” Neal said, butter not melting in his mouth. Peter hated that look!

“I was – er – surprised. There was stuff about the Official Secrets Act and – and – they were pushing me, hurrying me. _**Leaning**_ on me!”

“What could it all mean!” Neal asked, in wonder.

“What it all meant was that somehow you’ve pulled another con – and a big one this time! Gigantic!”

“Me? How on earth - ?” Neal was meanwhile applauding Gertrude silently. How many strings had she pulled, how many favours had she burnt, or was that ever a consideration with her? How much fun she and Mozzie must have had orchestrating this!

“Oh, I don’t know…!”

“…but you’re going to find out!” Neal finished Peter’s sentence.

“Oh, no, I’m not! I had to sign a few things – firstly, that I had been aware of a bunch of covert stuff around your entire existence - ”

“But - ”

“Look, if they were asking me to sign away your life or throw you back in prison, of course I would still be there, but it all looked as though – it made you look – my signature makes me a party to this – this **_HUGE_** cover-up. I got enough of a look to see that you are reinstated as a U.S. Citizen with full rights and privileges and you have a rather nice – probably won’t be to you - but a rather nice amount of decades of back-pay as some kind of special ops guy coming to you, as well as a golden handshake!”

Neal did a sleight-of-hand **_ta-da_** and flipped up a passport so new and pristine that it looked as though he had, in truth, conjured it out of thin air right then.

“I’m suppose to believe I was chasing a deep-cover covert operative all that time, who led me to other criminals…which you did, often, in the course of the chase, but… one who went into prison to root out inconsistencies or something, came to work at White Collar to lure out other – I mean, criminals – and that you have been recovering from being abducted and have now concluded your assignments…. ” Peter ran out of breath and words and then went on, “And your record is wiped clean as though it had never been? I’m surprised they didn’t give you diplomatic status and the Congressional Gold Medal into the bargain – you might have been, I didn’t get to read all the documents!”

Neal stayed silent, watching New York slide by in deep contentment.

“Am I supposed to believe that?”

Neal turned to him with a grin. “You’re good at pretending.”

“It’s all bogus!” Peter huffed, angrily.

“ _ **Peter!**_ Are you saying that your government, the Attorney General, the FBI, the DOJ – your **_government_** , who pays your **_salary_** , such that it is, is **_making up stuff!_**   Wait, I have to find my new phone and call Mozzie, because - ”

“Oh, shut up!” Peter said, grinning involuntarily. “You and I both know this is bogus. You aren’t anything like that because your fighting skills aren’t there, for one thing.”

“Er – you did have occasion to know that I’m a surprisingly good shot! I had no choice, emergency! And I was just saying to a colleague – you don’t know them – that the hardest thing is always pretending you don’t know something you do.”

“I also had to sign that I would uphold this… ** _story_** …and basically, in painful legalese, that I would never question it.”

“But Peter, you **_signed_ ** that and here you are, **_questioning it?_** How the mighty have fallen! I’m disappointed… I’m **_sadly_ ** disappointed in you, Peter!” Neal clicked his tongue three times. “It’s almost as though our rôles have been reversed!”

“And – and on the strength of my signature on those documents, I got a fat raise and a commendation,” Peter finished, in amazement. “Because I had been, through the years, such a great support and aid to your – ** _YOUR!_ ** \- investigations.”

He literally growled and Neal turned and grinned at his own reflection in the window. Then he straightened his face, turned back and said, sincerely, “You were a great partner!”

“I looked on the computers and in the files…it’s all changed there, too! I have some stuff in boxes at home, but it’s not – it’s all – it’s the little birthday cards and origami and silly gifts and things, no real evidence! Now no-one knows your creative brilliance as a criminal!”

Neal had always been touched that Peter had kept those things and not thrown them away, burnt them or used them for target practice! He shrugged a little. “Mozzie has all my records because he’s my lawyer. But those are protected - ”

“Yes, by attorney-client privilege and a whole slew of Russian surplus! I’m supposed to just _**take**_ this, Neal?”

“Like me always being your criminal, Peter – chew it or swallow it whole!”

“But - ”

Neal watched him, amused. “Thank you for all your invaluable help, Special Agent Burke!” he said, devoutly.

Peter just looked at him.

“Watch the road, Agent Burke!” Neal recommended, a little anxiously.

Peter started laughing, and had to pull over and stop the car - to the immediate raucous indignation of the New York drivers, to whom Neal waved apologies – until he could wipe the tears from his eyes and continue.

“You are a horrible criminal!” Peter told his friend, roundly.

“I’ll always be your little pet criminal, Peter, dear!” Neal batted his eye-lashes and smiled winningly.

“So now? You go straight?”

“We-ell…” Neal hedged, “if what you say is correct, I could hardly get much straighter, could I? Congressional Medal, huh?”

Peter just gave him a ‘don’t-give-me-that’ look. “I didn’t say you’d got that! And that’s a deflection! And I guess we shall see, shan’t we?”

“Yes. It’ll be fun!”

“A normal working life isn’t supposed to be fun!” Peter exclaimed as a knee-jerk reaction.

Neal grinned more broadly than usual. “Cappuccino in the clouds, Peter! Life can always be fun! We had fun, when you thought you were chasing me and I was pretending to run, didn’t we? We had fun when we were working together – between disagreements – at White Collar?”

“We did!” Peter agreed, somewhat reluctantly.

“So now this is our next phase of fun, that’s all!”

They finally pulled up to a vacant parking spot and Neal helped Peter with all his stuff. They walked five blocks to his house and Elizabeth let them in with a squeal of pleasure as though she hadn’t been cuddling up to Neal while he told her all the secrets he thought she should know not three hours ago and watching him making friends with their lovely young dog.

(Mozzie had come and carefully swept the room and then the rest of the house. His new equipment, courtesy of Gertrude, was so much faster and more efficient!)

“Welcome home, Neal,” Peter said, dumping his things all over the floor and opening his arms.

“Glad to be home!” Neal said, following suit, shoving the door shut behind him, stepping over the stuff and into them.

 

 

 

 

 

The End

 

Criticisms and comments very welcome...feed the greedy author!


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